


A Hole Where Something Was

by Hari_Aisu



Series: Coffee's for Closers [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Because they are fun, Fail!Derek, First Meetings, I laughed out loud as I wrote it, Like Derek and Stiles are so socially awkward, M/M, Social Awkwardness, cliches, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 07:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/910699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hari_Aisu/pseuds/Hari_Aisu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The green-eyed 26-year-old was used to his routine. He knew what to expect each and every day. There weren’t any surprises and where there were no surprises there were not any loss of expectations. </p><p>Derek had learned early on that to have hope was to have disappointment and he was sick and tired of being disappointed. </p><p>What Derek did not take into account was that life was not content to leave people be. </p><p>Things changed, no matter how resistant someone was to it. And the inevitable downward spiral of change all started with a very well made cup of coffee and a very unkind smile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hole Where Something Was

 

 

Derek operated on a system of complete self-awareness and cycling habit.

He was never hit with anything unexpected or out of the norm, at least in concerns to the circle of people that (unfortunately) surrounded him and the places he ritually attended more out of obligation than any particular wish of actually _being there_ , wherever _there_ might be.

The green-eyed 26-year-old was used to his routine. He knew what to expect each and every day. There weren’t any surprises and where there were no surprises there were not any loss of expectations.

Derek had learned early on that to have hope was to have disappointment and he was sick and tired of being disappointed.

What Derek did not take into account was that life was not content to leave people be. Things changed, no matter how resistant someone was to it. And the inevitable downward spiral of change all started with a very well made cup of coffee and a very unkind smile.

 

* * *

 

“I need a mocha latte with an extra shot of espresso and I need it _noooow_. Lydia, no, don’t cut me off, I need this thing like _I need ALL THE THINGS_!”

“Shut up, Stiles!” A disembodied voice rang throughout the front end space reverberating from the back.

Derek felt his left hand tighten over his satchel as he entered the miniscule coffee shop, the grating voice emanating from behind the counter echoing within the small space and stabbing his eardrums with the threat of vicious shrills and aggravating whines. The voice wasn’t all that high in pitch (not beyond what could be considered normal for a man) but the whiney undertones caused the smooth tenor to bounce up to an octave that shouldn’t be comfortable for the barista. Derek grit his teeth and fought the urge to leave, already in a rush once he realized that his other regular place was jam-packed to the ceiling and he did not have the patience to tolerate the masses of idiots aching for a caffeine fix.

He was starting to wish he hadn’t left and it had not even been two minutes since he had walked in.

The man that had voiced his want from behind the counter perked up as soon as he saw Derek, the silly grin that had been perched on his face now stretched out even further that it had already was. The man-child’s pale skin practically glittered under the reflective lights of the shop, emphasizing his wide honey-brown eyes and the multitude of birth marks scattered across his face and neck.

Derek quietly gulped and did _not_ internally swoon.

‘ _Whiney voice, whiney voice, whiney voice, whiney voice-_ ‘

“Hey there! I see our quota for insanely beautfiul people wishing to be anywhere else but here has been met today. How can I help you today, kind but very surly looking sir?”

Derek glanced down at the name-tag pinned to the other man’s apron.

_Stiles_

_What the hell was a Stiles?_

“I want a coffee.” Derek spat out.

Obviously his mood had hardly improved even with the whiney-voiced eye candy.

“Uh…” Stiles squinted, absently scratching the back of his head  as he did so. “Ok. Black coffee? Caffeinated? Espresso? Special order? I can’t really help you here if you aren’t more specific. This is a _coffee shop_ after all. That's like going into a sandwich shop and going 'sandwich.'”

“Coffee.” Derek once again gritted out, not even sure where his anger was coming from at this point. This was just _not fair._ This man's face was _not fair_. He wanted it on his face three seconds ago. “I want. A. Coffee.”

“Got it!” Stiles sputtered. “Black coffee… just like your attitude. I’ll leave the extra-good-cheer to the side, cause, you know, haters to the left and all that.”

Stiles pretended that he didn’t notice the slightly taller man’s glare, the ice shooting daggers practically aiming for his heart. Derek would have been much more appreciative of the moxy _if it didn’t make the man even more attractive, what the hell was this sorcery?!_

_This was not fair. AT ALL._

“Here you go, Mister…?”

Derek proceeded to glare even harder.

“You know what, Mr. Sour-Pants? That’s your name now. Because you are sour and your pants are just, uh, I’ll end that there. Because of reasons. ALL of the reasons! That have nothing to do with your assuredly fantastic ass.” Stiles smirked, his customer service grin now replaced with a sharper twitch of the mouth.

Derek liked it.

_Shit, Derek liked it!_

The dark-haired customer paid for his coffee and made haste out of the shop, not even saying anything in return when Stiles said goodbye to his retreating form.

And confirmed that his ass was, indeed, fantastic.

Derek was in trouble.

This was why he didn’t deviate from his routine.

Because then you meet new people.

And new people were _never_ good news.

_Especially when you liked their faces and sass._

 

* * *

 

After that horrible first impression Derek decided that avoiding the coffee shop strangely named ‘Foamy Coffee’ (which made absolutely no sense, what did that even mean?) would be the best thing he could do.

He did not need to interact with a skinny brat with poofy cinnamon-brown hair and golden-brown doe eyes.

He did not need deliciously good coffee that literally made his body cry out in joy.

He did not even need a warm atmosphere with almost no waiting time and a perfect spot to get his writing done right next to the counter that one aforementioned skinny-boy worked which displayed the best… _visuals_ that the shop had to offer.

He did not need these things because routine was his best friend and lover all wrapped in one and he was not going to cheat on it, thank you very much.

Derek had _self control_ , thank you very much.

To an extent.

Kind of.

When it counted.

The point was, he was good doing at what he was doing which was not avoiding because avoiding meant there was something to avoid and that was not the case, how could you even think that? And there was no reason to change things. Because change was bad.

So Very Bad.

 

* * *

 

“Ah, it’s tall, dark and moody again!”

Derek felt his mouth twitch upwards but caught himself before it could do so.

Stiles grinned from behind the counter, obviously letting their last encounter brush off his very lovely and broad shoulders and beckon Derek forward with a long and very dextrous finger ( _oh God, what was this man doing to him?_ ).

“Come on, I know you need your fix, I can tell just by looking at you that you _hunger_.” The brown-eyed barista’s grin turned into a very filthy smirk, _what the fucking hell_ “For coffee, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Derek croaked unattractively, “I, uh, want coffee. Really. Bad.”

“How bad?” Stiles joked as he poured Derek another cup of black coffee, not even asking for specifications this time.

Derek let his eyes trail down from Stiles face to his neck and then his torso. “So bad.”

Stiles stalled, the lid of the coffee cup hovering over the rim. “Uh… really?”

“You don’t even understand how badly I need it.” Derek could have smacked himself if he had been in control of his full faculties but _Stiles_. There was no operating at full level when that level of adorkable pretty was staring at you at full force and Derek was not used to being blinded by all of _that_. He couldn’t even tell you what it was about Stiles that took him so off guard. He had had the occasional male hook-up, and they tended to be a bit on the sleeker side much like Stiles was, but there was something different about this man that just made Derek be more… _Derek_.

“I totally could understand.” Stiles breathed out at last. The pupils of his eyes were semi-dilated, staring through Derek as if they were imagining something else entirely. “You have _no idea_.”

Instead of trying to continue down that path of self-destruction, Derek promptly laid out the money needed to pay for his coffee and practically ripped it out of the other man’s hands.

“Thanks.” He muttered before running out of the door, not even caring about his dignity at this point.

This was not good.

Derek was not going to be able to function at this point because all of Stiles was screaming out invitation and Derek would not be at the party, nope, not happening. Because it would be a pants-less party and he was _not prepared for this, what was his life?!_

 

* * *

 

The next time Derek would see Stiles it would not be at the Foamy Coffee, where there was a counter that was used as a buffer and a coffee to be used as an excuse to both come in and frolic as Stiles would say and leave when things got too tense and Derek felt like if clothes weren’t going to be flying off then there were clearly things wrong with this relationship.

He had been in his apartment minding his own business when his adopted brother Isaac, who stayed with him as he attended the local college, had casually mentioned that his study-buddy was going to be stopping by for a little bit.

That should have been Derek’s first warning.

Because coincidence and Derek Hale went together like peanut butter and jelly and there was nothing Derek could do about it.

He was cursed.

 _He had to be_.

At the time Derek had brushed it off, knowing that his younger brother often brought random people into their home and as long as they didn’t interact with him and the things that he was doing he had no problem ignoring their entire existence.

This was how things usually operated in the Hale home.

This system worked.

The system _failed him_ this time.

“Mr. Sour-Pants!”

Derek jack-knifed off of his computer chair as the familiar voice sprang through his apartment and invaded his space.

Stiles was here. In his home.

_Oh God, he was going to molest the crap out of him, he just knew it!_

“You know my brother Derek? Like… actually _know him_?” Isaac hesitantly looked between the two, obviously wondering how _that_ could be in acquaintance with _that_. Derek would be more offended if he wasn’t so busy freaking out over his potential future assault charges.

“I met him at work. Temperamental little thing, ain’t he? Except, ya know, not so _little_ if you get my drift." 

That little asshole.

“You have no idea.”

Derek turned his glare onto his brother.

That _other_ little asshole.

“Well!” Stiles practically shouted out, hands stretched over his head as his back arched forward with a snap. “Let’s get to researchin’, Angel-Eyes! See ya later, Sour-Pants!”

“I hate you so much.” Isaac muttered as they moved out of the room.

Derek blinked as they did so, realizing that _no_ , he had not said a word to Stiles, too busy imagining all the ways that his body could be sexed and all the ways he could be potentially arrested because of said sexing, and _yes_ , Stiles had just walked out as if he had been unimportant, not even a blimp in his radar.

And that was not ok.

This was a _travesty_.

Hell, this meant _war_.

 

* * *

 

 “Hey,” Derek called out as he entered the Foamy Coffee, eyes set in James Dean mode and hair coiffed in a similar manner. His leather jacket emphasized his broad shoulders and chiseled chest which lay hidden beneath the skin-tight white tee-shirt clinging to his every muscle. His legs were indecently clad in a pair of the tightest pants that Derek owned, looking every bit as spectacular as his ass, which was quite clearly on display beneath the molded denim obscuring it.

“Hi…?” Stiles blinked as he turned around from the coffee machine he had been simultaneously cleaning and loading up, eyes large and confused. “Uh… hey Derek? You’re looking especially model-y today.”

Derek chuckled as he leaned onto the counter, teeth glimmering as the light reflected off of the whiteness. “Thanks. That’s cute.”

Stiles’ face did a weird thing, simultaneously caught between embarrassment, elation and… fear?

Was Derek _creeping him out_? Why the hell did he always have this affect on people he actually _liked_?!

‘Tone it down, tone it down, tone it down!”

“I mean, I’d like a coffee, please. You know…” Derek felt his eyebrows raise without his volation, clearly not in control of his actions at this point. “The _usual_.”

“Black?” Stiles squeaked out.

“As dark as you can make it.”

“Oh God,” Stiles looked as if he were going to have an aneurysm and Derek couldn’t even find it in himself to feel bad because _he was going to get all up on that_. He was. His routine wanted to screw him over?

 _He’d screw Stiles over instead_.

“Here.”

Derek smiled as sweetly as sugar as the coffee was practically thrown into his hand, Stiles’ crimson-stained face making him look all the more loveable.

Before Derek could go in for the kill, he felt a large block of _something_ smash into his legs and topple him over, coffee spilling all over his chest and burning the _crap_ out of his nipples.

 _His poor, defenseless nipples_.

“Derek!” Stiles yelped as he jumped over the counter, rag in hand. A tiny girl with pigtails started wailing next to them as Stiles attempted to help Derek up and clean up the mess, pointing at Derek as if it were his fault he had fallen onto the floor and ended up with coffee all over his nipples.

So very hot coffee.

On his _nipples_.

He hated his life verily.

“Are you ok?” Stiles asked with a snort, the obvious laughter barely being contained. “You don’t need to go to the hospital do you? It’s a good thing the coffee wasn’t too hot or else you’d have second degree burns _everywhere_.”

Somewhere in the background noise behind them Derek could make out a parent apologizing fervently for his child’s mistake and attempting to rectify the situation as said child continued to cry up a storm but all Derek could hear was the laughter and concern in Stiles’ voice. His chest was still burning and he was pretty sure he was going to need a _ton_ of ointment ( _especially his nipples_ ) but he was pretty sure he was going to be ok.

Being suave and debonair wasn’t really his thing anyway.

 

* * *

 

After that, his routine changed.

It was inevitable, really.

Because life was horrible and Derek’s taste in coffee and men were just as bad.

So Derek pined and Stiles made awkward, sexually-charged comments and the tense atmosphere stayed the same until one day Derek woke up and realized that _six months_ had passed since he had met the young barista and _how had he not tapped that by now?_

See, life was a cruel mistress. It gave you hope when hope was something you thought was no longer to be had in the form of a gorgeous young man with an oral fixation a mile wide. It was devastating.

And by devastating Derek meant _fucking amazing._

 

* * *

 

“So I like you.”

Stiles blinked as he put Derek’s drink down on the table, the older man sitting in an awkward manner as he perched his laptop to the side, Microsoft Word blank and absolutely _not_ filled with text. Stiles had felt so bad after the coffee-burning incident that he now promptly pushed Derek into one of the seats as soon as he came in and brought him a coffee, always free of charge.

Apparently the young girl that had crashed into him had been the hyperactive daughter of the owner of the tiny shop. The owner had practically pleaded to make sure that Derek wouldn’t make a ruckus about the issue, going so far as to be willing to provide payment for the hospital visit and any medical necessities he would need in order to keep everything under wraps. Derek hadn’t really been interested in any reparations but he would take the free coffee and unbelievably cute college student working full time, please and thanks.

The now-timid barista sat down at the other side of the table, clearly still in shock.

“You can’t have been that oblivious.” Derek muttered, reigning in the urge to smack himself in the face. “You must know I’ve been weirdly hitting on you for months.”

“And then running off afterwards.” Stiles helpfully provided. “You leave sort of a hot-and-cold impression, ya know. I just figured if I made enough sexy comments you'd just smash faces with me eventually.” Stiles glanced down at Derek’s chest and winced. “No offense. I didn’t… yeah. You get what I mean. Which clearly means you now know how weird I am. _Great._ ”

“I’m… kind of shy. So... we can be weird and shy together if you want.”

Stiles grabbed the sugar he knocked over in result of his shock of the previous statement before it could land on the floor.

Things were not going as well as Derek had hoped.

“Shut up, Stiles.” Derek snapped through the silence, the younger man’s face flying from expression to expression in a flurry of a flails and facial twitches.  

“But I didn’t even say anything!”

“You never have to.” The redheaded woman that had yelled at Stiles all those months ago flipped her hair over her shoulder and walked out of the shop, not even taking the time to look at either Derek or Stiles. “You never shut up even when you’re quiet.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

Lydia, which Derek had _finally_ remembered her name after several one-sided conversations on Stiles’ part, smirked as she pushed past the door and winked at Derek. Stiles continued to stew in annoyance even after the young woman left, giving his face a pretty flush through the influx of emotion.

 “I want to take you out to dinner.”

That was _not_ what Derek meant to say and he was quite positive his face reflected that. _Stiles_ ’ face even reflected that. He was so bad at build up and what were segues anyway? They didn’t exist in Derek’s world apparently.

 “I really want to date the hell out of you.” Stiles blurted out after a strangled and very awkward silence. “Like, you are beautiful and broody and I would so be all about getting all up on that every single day of forever if you would like just let me get within a foot of you and not run away like a creeper. You are like sex on a stick and I want to be on that stick _all the damn time_ and I can’t believe I just said all that out loud, there must be something wrong with me.”

“Can I please take you home and keep you?”

Stiles felt his mouth twitch upwards, the horrified look on Derek’s face _was absolutely magical_.

“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” Derek stuttered out. Stiles seemed to take to Derek’s inability to be socially competent as a good thing and Derek couldn’t understand how he could get one night stands with no problem but ask him to talk to someone he actually _liked_ and it was like he became a monosyllabic caveman with creepy tendencies. Though Stiles didn’t seem to be any better, thank goodness. “Please just date me so this conversation can officially be over.”

Stiles nodded so hard that Derek was scared that his head was going to topple off of his neck. “I am all aboard this dating train, please pick me up after work tomorrow and I will give you the _best date of your life_.”

“Not if I give it to you first.”

“Oh _God_ , stop saying stuff like that, I’ll _die_!”

Derek smirked, taking a sip off his now cool coffee.

Victory tasted like stale, cold coffee and Derek was quite sure that he needed a new coffee but damn if he didn’t enjoy this disgusting one first.

 

* * *

 

So maybe breaking the mold wasn’t all that bad.

Derek couldn’t say that he was disappointed with how things had turned out in the long run. He had a constant stream of caffeinated deliciousness ready and waiting for him whenever he wanted and a hot boyfriend ready and raring to go whenever he was free.

Life could _suck it._

“Hey Der,” Stiles gave the older man a kiss as he entered his boyfriend’s home, a stack of letters in his hand. “You have some mail. One of these is from a Laura Hale? Didn’t you tell me that was your sister’s name?”

Shit.

Life was _horrible._

_Derek was doomed._

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look, just another Coffee Shop AU, how wonderful. Mind you, I've only worked fast food so I have no idea how a coffee shop is actually run. DON'T JUDGE ME!
> 
> Here, also have a series because these two are adorkable and I love them. Hope you guys enjoyed because I seriously did. I enjoyed the hell out of this lol. Let me know what you guys think!


End file.
